Left Alone
by Silindro
Summary: Oneshot. Two weeks after the accident that took her husband's life, Leia finds salvation in the form of a voice message that she had left unheard on the machine. HSLO. AU.


a/n: Quickly written, quickly published. Had to get the idea out and done since it had been bugging me for a very, very long time.

Left Alone--------

It had been two days since anyone in the Imperial Palace, the New Republic headquarters on Coruscant, had seen Leia Organa Solo. Speculation was that she had tucked herself away indefinitely in her room, set on crying away the rest of her life cold, alone, and unhappy.

It wasn't often that anyone speculated anything about Leia. She was a busy woman, change was her style. It was what made her. But change went both ways, good and bad. And speculation in this case came from bad change.

Leia Organa Solo was now a widow.

Unknowingly giving in to speculation, she _had_ tucked herself away in her room, but she didn't intend to stay there forever. Just until the tears had dried and her soul had repaired itself of the damage that Han had so unwillingly inflicted in his sudden passing. She didn't know when or if she would ever be right again. Probably never, but she wouldn't let herself believe that.

She knew they were all waiting on some sign from her, some sign that would tell them all that she was going to be okay. The blinking on her voice message machine told her they had been calling, had been checking in.

But she left it alone.

Heaving a deep, sad sigh, she turned her back on the window and the lights of the bustling city outside. It was far too depressing to see so much life going on around her when she was dying inside. Dying or dead. It was hard to tell.

It was also hard to see in the dark. After hearing the news she had immediately gone home turned off all the lights in the apartment, hoping that people would get the idea that she didn't want to talk, and no, she didn't need their sympathy. She thought that turning off the lights would make her forget that Han wasn't there. He wasn't there because he was dead. He was never coming back.

She wondered if they had called and left messages trying to tell her how sorry they were that he wasn't coming back. But she didn't want to hear their lies, she didn't need them. She just wanted peace and solace and Han.

So she left the machine alone.

It was quiet in the apartment. There was not the sound of his breathing, there was only the sound of her hitching sobs, a testament to her lonely existence. Her heavy eyes blinked a tear down her cheek. It dripped onto the floor where all of the others had gone and dried and been forgotten. She cried her tears for him, all for him.

And still she left the machine alone.

It took her a week to come around and begin to function like a normal human again. Normal for her was a redefined thing, though. She woke up, showered, went to the office and did it all over again. She was a horrible copy of her former self. A walking holo-vid that felt nothing. Not even Luke could break through her barriers.

Then one afternoon she remembered the messages on her machine. The light had been blinking and blinking and she hadn't stopped to erase any of the horrid messages that she hadn't wanted to hear. She paused a finger over the button. Something stopped her. Something nagged at her, told her there was something she needed to hear. The Force was calling out to her, calling her name.

She played the messages one by one; they had been backed up from several days before the incident. There were messages from Senators, from the New Republic and from her brother.

And then there was that voice…

With the wall as her support, she slid to the floor in a boneless heap, the breath and the feeling having all been sucked from her body.

The message was dated for the morning when it had happened, around the same time of the accident. It had probably been made the night before since it took so long to send messages from the outer rim when there was enough traffic clogging the system.

She listened to his voice coming out of the tiny speaker on the table, just as she had remembered it from days and nights and happier times before.

"_Hey sweetheart, I know I haven't called in a while, but I'm calling now. I just wanted to let you know that I'm doing okay and I'm coming home. We'll see each other soon, that's a promise. I love you._"

She cried.

* * *

a/n: Got the idea from something I read a while back. Some woman got a telegram from her husband the day after she had heard that he had died. Had a message telling her that he was coming home, so you can see the symbolism between the theoretical 'home' and physical 'home'.

Thought it would make an interesting twist to a fic.

Meh, even if it sucked, you gotta tell me how to do better on something next time. I'm running off of your ideas, y'know.

It's a fanfiction sin to read without reviewing.


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